Requiem
by FracturedFlame
Summary: "What is this?" Jay asked, taking care to keep his voice level. "It's... it's a funeral." Marble Hornets one-shot. Written for mhficweek13. Prompt by quintuplehorror.


**title**: Requiem

**characters/pairing**: jay, tim, no pairing (wtf, Jam if you squint, I guess? How did that get in there?)

**rating**: PG-13 for flashbacks

**wc**: ~2900

**prompt**: fic in which tim and jay are still friends after beating the operator and are in a café or whatever just talking and being happy, can be fluff if you like

**summary**:

"What is this?" Jay asked, taking care to keep his voice level.

"It's... it's a funeral."

**notes**: SPOILERS for all MH vids through Entry #76. Written for mhficweek13. Prompt by quintuplehorror. Apparently I only really think in angst, because the first version I wrote of this is ridden with it. However, I wanted to fill what the requester wanted, so I wrote a different, fluffy one. This one (Requiem) is the ANGSTY one, and the second version (Coda) is the happier one. Still, I've never been able to see MH ending anywhere close to happy, so angst crept into that one too and I had to make them a bit OOC. And in this version they're... happier than before, I guess? But there you have it. Also, I purposely left the actual end to the series ambiguous.

"I'm coming up only to hold you under

And coming up only to show you're wrong

At every occasion I'll be ready for the funeral"

~ (The Funeral, Band of Horses)

The broken lens of the camera stared accusingly at him, but all Jay could feel was numbness.

His camera, his constant companion for years now, sat as a symbol of finality in the center of the worn wooden table. Its lens could no longer offer the comfort of false protection, not that it was needed anymore. It felt unreal, sitting in public without suspecting that he was being watched. The café even had floor-to-ceiling windows, and it was an unfamiliar sensation to feel his skin not crawling at the exposure.

Jay clenched his hands habitually, nails biting half-moons into his skin, just so he could feel the physical sensation of existence. It was all really over, as far as he could tell. Even if he still flicked his eyes side-to-side, still drew the curtains shut, still kept human contact to a bare minimum, it was over. This was one ending he had never planned for. He never thought he would be free from the anxiety, never thought he could make it out alive.

"Coffee?"

Jay startled and blinked owlishly, realizing that that his eyes had slid closed as his thoughts grew darker.

"Y-Yes. Um... yes, thank you," he stammered. The waitress stared at him a bit quizzically but poured his coffee into the half-cold mug.

Jay nodded his thanks as the waitress moved away, then dropped his head into his hands and rubbed at his eyes. Five years of sleeplessness had permanently stained dark circles around his eyes and etched worry lines into his features. Spots danced in his vision as a wave of confused, half-formed thoughts washed over him. Images flashed before him: the hooded figure holding a finger over his deformed mask-mouth, Alex's steeled eyes and taut stance as he prepared the shoot, Jessica's wide eyes staring up at a camera from the darkness. All throughout the images, the high pitched whine of distorted footage grew steadily louder accompanied by the constant beat of agonized coughing thrumming in his ears over and over and louder and louder until he wanted to clamp his hands over his ears, dig his fingers into his hair and just _scream—_

A hand clasped on his shoulder and he jumped violently. "Jay? You okay?"

Jay met Tim's concerned gaze, then dropped his eyes down to the floor, breathing hard. "Yeah... yeah, fine."

Tim looked openly unconvinced, but didn't push the matter. As Tim pulled out the chair opposite of him, Jay only dared to look up in furtive glances. He took note that Tim had bandaged up his shoulder and added a splint to his wrist. Combined with the black eye and the tinge of blood on his hairline that persisted even after a shower, he looked dreadful.

Tim shot him a look, clearly catching him watching, and Jay looked away again. Guilt welled inside of him. After all, he had managed to make it through the ordeal only with a cut along his jaw. He rubbed the long, messy line absentmindedly.

They sat there in silence for a few minutes. Tim opened his mouth to say something, then closed it and brushed back the hair from his eyes.

Feeling the urge to break the silence, Jay blurted out, "I ordered you coffee."

Tim looked a bit jolted, then relaxed slightly. "Right. Uh, thanks." He took an obligatory sip.

Jay nodded, noting that Tim's voice was still hoarse. It was understandable, from what had happened before. After a moment, Tim spoke.

"What're we going to do now?"

"Whatever we want, I guess," Jay said. "Or at least... whatever we were going to do before this all started."

Tim snorted. "I don't even know what I was doing before this all started." He looked disturbed for a moment, the words uttered with a bitter rasp.

That's when it hit Jay: this was Tim's life. There really was no 'before' for him, because it started when he was just a boy. At least Jay had a relatively normal childhood, no mental hospitals or constant fear or drugs or pain. Jay used to have a family, friends, school, games, activities, hobbies... Tim had nothing, and now he had nothing to fall back on. He was at a loss for what to do now because he had never known anything else.

Tim shuffled uncomfortably and Jay hurried to add something. "Good point. I mean, I didn't know what I was doing when this all started either."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, umm... I was sort of stuck, y'know? I was lonely, sifting through old videos for fun, for Christ's sake. I clearly didn't know what to do with myself then, either."

Tim was silent, but the intense slant of his eyebrows had lessened a bit. He turned his attention to the small black camera lying in the center of the table and thumbed a bit at the broken lens.

"Gonna get this fixed?"

"...No. I don't really have any use for it anymore."

"No? But aren't you a film student?"

"I was, before. I stopped studying when I hit the road. It's kind of hard to complete homework from motels or the back of your car. Anyway, I don't think I can be now. Too many memories," Jay said.

"That's for sure. So you're not going to film yourself anymore?"

"Nope. It'll feel weird for a while, but I truly think that it's all finished."

Tim sighed. "I sure as hell hope so." He unconsciously combed his hand through his hair again.

"Jay," Tim started awkwardly. "If you need to, you... you can crash at my place. Now that no one's going to be watching us, I can go back there again."

Jay nodded slowly. "Thanks."

Tim paused and looked at the ceiling like he was steeling himself for something unpleasant. Suddenly, he looked Jay square in the eyes, talking rapidly.

"You need help. To get past all of this."

Jay blanched, desperately avoiding the question.

"So do you!" Jay said defensively.

"...I know," he replied softly. His shoulders sagged a bit. Jay flinched.

"I didn't mean-" he started.

"No, no, you're right," Tim shrugged it off. "I'm a bit of a mess."

He closed his eyes dejectedly, then straightened up. "But that doesn't mean you need any less attention."

"We'll help each other." Jay suggested hesitantly. "Besides, it's not like some psychologist will believe that we both dreamed up the same hallucination, and that it beat us up like this."

"'Course not. No psychologist would believe any of this is real. I guess that's why therapy never helped me before... I knew it all was real, I just fooled myself into believing my mind played a trick on me."

Tim held out his hands on the table, watching them tremble slightly. He brought them up to cover his face in anguish.

"Fuck, I don't believe half of this happened, and I have the wounds to prove it! How does any of this make sense?" Tim said, his voice rising and taking on a note of hysteria.

Jay replied tiredly. "It doesn't. Just... just... I don't know. It's over now. We're done."

But Tim was already shaking his head. "What about... the guy in the hood? I don't even know if I fully believe what happened to him. I can't even think of him as who he was before. He'll always be that mystery of a person."

"I think he's done with us. For the first time since this started... he can rest."

"Same for us, I guess."

Jay half-snorted. "Yeah. I guess."

"Safe to say, we don't have to worry about Alex bothering him."

Jay winced. Tim noticed, the hard look on his face softening.

"Sorry. I... I guess I still haven't processed what we know now. I'm still thinking of him as the man who broke my leg."

"No, no, it's fine. I get it." Jay replied softly. It still struck a wrenching chord in him, Alex's name. Even after all that he had done to him, Jay still felt a little sadness, a little pity. He mourned a life corrupted, a life that could have been.

"At least... at least he found the truth in the end." Tim offered.

"Yeah. He was always after that." Jay mumbled.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while.

"Here," Tim said. "I have an idea. Come to my house tonight and we'll move you in."

"Alright." Jay said. He stood up and shoved his hands into his pockets. "I'll... be around."

Tim rose too, curiously much more lively than a few moments before. "Take care."

"Likewise."

With that, Tim rushed out of the café, leaving Jay alone with a broken camera, cold coffee, and his own confused thoughts.

* * *

_Ding-dong_

Jay rang the doorbell, then shifted the weight of the cardboard box he held to his hip. He was waiting on the step to Tim's house, apprehensively running over things to say in his head. Jay still didn't know Tim as well as he should and he didn't need another situation as uncomfortable as the café had been. It didn't help that he was still nervous in the dark. The streaks that dusk had painted across the sky were fading to tendrils of deep blue, and the shadows were growing larger and deeper out of the ground.

The door opened, causing Jay to jerk again.

"Oh, sorry." Tim apologized. "Didn't mean to scare you."

"It's nothing." Jay said. Mentally cursing his jitters, he followed Tim down the hallway.

Tim glanced behind him. "You can just leave that box on the table. Come out to the back when you're ready." He hurried out the sliding door in the back of his house.

A familiar knot of suspicion formed in Jay's stomach. Moving quickly, he found the dining room table and set the box down. Pulling out a flashlight, he crept to the sliding door and peered out. Seeing nothing, he nudged the door open more and slid out into the night. A rustle of leaves to his left, and Jay bit back a yelp, flicked the flashlight on, and waved it wildly.

"Whoa, whoa... it's just me," Tim held his hands up in surrender, squinting his eyes against the light.

"What's happening back here?!" Jay shouted. An image flashed across his vision, of Tim holding his hands up after Jay accused him of hiding that tape. Jay had been right about that. Liar. He was _lying_.

"I'm about to show you. Calm down." Tim spaced out his words, taking on a soothing tone.

"No! Tell me!" Jay's voice cracked in fear.

"Please. It'll be hard to explain." Tim agitatedly rubbed his hand on the back of his neck. "I-I just want us to get better."

Another vision crossed his mind's eye. Alex holding a gun, the crazed glint in his eye, Jessica screaming behind him. He flashed back to the present, fixing his attention on Tim's hands, still raised, and Tim's gaze looking pointedly at the ground.

Slowly, Jay lowered the flashlight. Guilt washed over him. "S-sorry."

Tim nodded sympathetically. "It's okay. It's still getting to me too." He brought his arm up, like he was going to put it around Jay's shaking shoulders for comfort, but thought better of it.

"Here," Tim said, lowering his arm. "Let's go."

Jay followed silently, shoving the flashlight in his belt loop. Even after he knew it was all done, he still clung to this paranoia. It was exhausting. He wrapped his arms around himself and shivered against the evening cold.

They rounded a corner, revealing a roaring fire pit. Tim turned, his face grim.

"What is this?" Jay asked, taking care to keep his voice level.

"It's... it's a funeral."

It was the last answer Jay expected. He took a step back towards the house.

Now Tim looked slightly annoyed. "Not _your_ funeral, dumbass."

"Well, what do you mean?" Jay demanded.

Tim looked so vulnerable at the moment, with his tensed shoulders and the way he was kicking at the dirt, that Jay instantly regretted his abrasiveness. "Umm... I dunno, I guess I thought it would be a good idea to... here, uh, I'll just get them."

Jay watched curiously as Tim shuffled around to the other side of the fire and picked a plastic bag off the ground. He handed the bag to Jay and drew back.

Jay opened the bag inquisitively, and reached in to find – a tape. Jay panicked internally for a second before seeing it had a notecard that said 'WATCH THIS'. It was that old tape, not a new one. Jay didn't think he could handle _another_ tape.

Tim cleared his throat nervously. "The rest of the tapes we have are in there. And... there's other things too."

Jay dropped the tape into the bag again and felt around. Closing his hand around something thin, Jay pulled out a stack of papers. The top was the folded picture of Amy that they recovered from Tim's attic. Then there was a picture of Brian, of Seth, of Sarah, and Jessica. Jay looked at Tim for explanation. Tim shrugged, then nodded at him to go on.

Jay plunged his hand into the bag once more, and pulled out the smooth, molded plastic of Tim's mask.

Tim wouldn't meet his eyes. "I thought... maybe we could... burn them. For closure."

Jay stared at the contents of the bag, then gazed into the blank eyes of the mask.

"I think—that would be a good idea." He glanced at the pictures. "They deserve to be remembered." Then, the mask. "Or left behind."

Tim glanced at him, wide-eyed, like he couldn't believe Jay approved. He exhaled, then gave Jay a small smile for one of the first times in his life.

"Good... good." he murmured.

A thought struck Jay, and he began to rummage in his pockets. "Wait... I might just have one addition." He pulled out a thick leather band from his pocket.

"What's that?" Tim asked.

Jay flicked the tag hanging from a metal loop, making the name on it flicker in the light.

"It's Rocky's. Alex's dog."

"Oh." Tim said. Jay added the collar to the bag.

Jay hadn't mentioned how Alex wasn't represented in the items in the bag, and Tim didn't look like he would offer any explanation.

"How are we going to do this?" Jay asked.

"I thought we'd each take a handle and just, dump it in."

"Alright." Jay allowed. Approaching the fire, he offered one side of his bag to Tim.

Tim took it wordlessly. They locked eyes, and, still looking at each other, said together:

"One... two... three!"

And they pitched the items into the fire. Together they watched as the papers that held the image of their friends turn to ash, the tapes meld together into one dark mass, and the collar twist and shrivel as the name on its tag was rendered indistinguishable. The mask's features distorted and melted in the crackling flames, its blank expression disappearing as the eyebrows relaxed and the mouth's tight press lessened. It almost looked—relieved. Like it was being released from a great burden. Jay looked up into its former owner's face to find that the sentiment was almost exactly mirrored.

"You know," Jay began contemplatively. "I didn't trust you before. Not even this evening."

"I know." Tim said. "I haven't exactly done anything to earn it."

"It's not all your fault. I think I've forgotten how to trust, over the years. But..." Jay paused. "I think, for the first time, I ready to remember."

Tim's face looked blank for a second, then split into raucous laughter.

Jay stopped in shock for a second, then he squared his shoulders in annoyance.

"What?" he said indignantly. "I'm serious."

"No-!" Tim got in between chuckles. "It's just that – that was so – fucking – fucking cliched."

"Oh." Jay paused, then gradually smiled.

"Whew," Tim wheezed, "That felt good. Thanks."

A feeling of tentative pleasure bubbled up in Jay's chest. "No problem."

Tim's expression turned more serious, but he still kept a small smile on his face.

"Anyway, I'm glad that you are ready to trust people again. It's good that you're giving – them – a second chance."

Tim stumbled over the word, and they both heard the 'me' in its place. There was an unspoken air of gratitude, as they mutually understood that Tim had been forgiven and Jay was pleased in his renewed capacity to forgive.

There was a small, blooming trust being kindled between them. Two people, having never had close relationships before, mended a shattered trust through their shared experience.

Jay looked out into the trees, into a darkness he no longer acutely feared. He inhaled his elation, let his head rock backwards, and grinned into the starred sky. The warmth of the fire felt like strange and new, like a starting point, filling his head with a strange buzz of anticipation.

Having made peace with the years behind him, Jay shed his trepidation into the flames and embraced the conviction of his continued existence.

A/N:

…

…

… Holy fuck that got cheesy in the end. Sorry. :P

Also, I had no intention of having bits of Jam in there. They just snuck in there, the little bastards.

In hindsight, this is one of the crappiest fills I've ever written because I suck at dialogue, especially table talk. And that's what half of this was. Please ignore my attempts at awkward conversation in the beginning. I wrote this is one long go to fit it into my schedule, and I was clumsy in the beginning and a bit loopy at the end.

I designated Hoody as a male for the sake of simplicity (and that the fandom seems to predominantly think this is true), but for God's sake don't think I'm contradicting someone's theory. It's just so I could mention him/her with the identity already known and prevent Jay and Tim from be even more awkward than they already are by saying him/her/they.

I hope you liked Rocky's cameo semi-appearance!

And Tim and Jay's bits of OOCness! :P

I also never intended for them to leave the café, but it got out of hand. Oops.

Thanks to quintuplehorror for the prompt!

And finally, everyone give a round of internet applause to thescriptsupervisor (for now, thescriptspookervisor, XD) for setting up the fic week as well as running the blog for mhficweek13! Thank you so much! ^_^


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